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“Hey, check this out.”
Johnny scrolled down and up to restart the video. The text “Making My Own Charcoal” appeared on the screen. Pony watched with some interest as the person in the video burned a stick from their backyard and started to draw with it. The end piece was pretty interesting, and obviously he loved watching people light shit on fire, but the making of the charcoal itself wasn’t surprising.
“That makes sense,” he said, shrugging. “Charcoal is made by burning wood, so . . .”
Johnny looked at him in awe. “Charcoal is made from wood?”
Pony nodded, a bit bewildered. “Did you not know?”
“No, I didn’t! That’s really cool, though.”
Without warning or invitation, Two-Bit came trotting into the room, clearly having eavesdropped on their conversation.
“There’s no way charcoal is made from burning wood!” he protested, “Burnt wood is just ash!”
“The fuck do you think charcoal is, Two-Bit?” Pony snarked.
“Charcoal! It’s charcoal!”
“Which is made—” Pony cut himself off, gesturing rapidly and unintelligibly. “By burning! Wood! How is this so hard for you to understand!”
The door creaked open and shut, and Soda dropped down onto the couch next to Ponyboy and Johnny. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off (Darry was probably gonna get pissy about that later, but Soda knew the rules. Breaking them was his choice—it wasn’t Pony’s problem).
“What are we arguing about?” he asked, trying and failing to run a hand through his messy curls.
“Did you know that charcoal is made by burning wood?” Pony asked him.
Soda frowned. “It is? That’s neat, I didn’t know that.”
“NO IT’S NOT!” Two screeched, “IT IS NOT!”
Soda looked from Two-Bit to Pony, confused as all getout.
“It is, it—show him the video, Johnny!” Pony demanded. Johnny gave him a flat look. “Sorry—can you show him the video, please?”
“Yeah, I got you. Look.”
As Soda watched the video, his face grew more and more incredulous. He looked straight at Ponyboy when it was done.
“Are you telling me this whole time we’ve been looking at the charcoal in those art stores we could’ve just been lighting some sticks on fire in the backyard?”
“Well, yeah, but—that’s not the point! The point is that charcoal is made of burnt wood! It is burnt wood!”
“If charcoal is made by burning wood, how come you can’t burn wood to make charcoal in Minecraft?” Two argued.
Pony went silent for a second. Did Two actually just ask him that? How could he think of something that was so ridiculous and so wrong and still say it like it would bring his argument to victory?
“YOU LITERALLY CAN!” he shouted.
“I don’t believe you!”
Pony sputtered.
“You literally burn wood in the furnace in Minecraft to get charcoal!”
“Why wouldn’t you just use the wood as fuel?”
“Because charcoal lasts longer! And you use it for torches and shit! You—oh my god . . .” He put his face in his hands. “Someone back me up here.”
“I’ve actually never done that,” Johnny said, quite unhelpfully.
“Well no shit Johnnycakes, you’re always busy mining the coal!” Soda quipped.
“The children yearn for the mines.” Two-Bit spoke as if he were relaying some sage wisdom and not literally quoting a fucking meme.
“The children yearn for you to shut the fuck up!” Pony retorted. Johnny tried to frown in order to hide his laughter, but he failed miserably and just wound up looking constipated for a few seconds.
“I still don’t believe you,” Two told him.
“Literally what can I do to make you believe this? It’s the truth! You just saw video proof!”
“Get onto Minecraft and show me, bitch.”
“How is Minecraft better proof than a fucking video?”
“Just show him, Pony! I’m gettin’ tired of all this yapping,” Soda complained, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes.
“You helped start this!” Ponyboy cried, jabbing an accusatory finger in his general direction.
“Yeah, but I’m not ending it,” he replied.
Pony dragged a hand down his face.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll boot it up on my phone.”
Two-Bit, Johnny, and Soda all gathered around him as he opened up Minecraft. It was a lot more difficult to play on a tiny phone screen, but Ponyboy still managed to find some wood and mine eight blocks of stone.
“Now watch,” he said to Two-Bit in particular. “You see how I have this oak log?”
“Yes, Pony. I see how you have this oak log.”
“Shut up. You see how I’m putting it in the furnace? With another piece of wood under it? You see how I’m burning it?”
Two didn’t say anything.
“Do you see it?”
“God, you tell me to shut up and now you want me to talk again! Pick a lane, centaur!”
“I’m going to slit your throat in your sleep,” Pony grumbled. Two-Bit snorted a little, but kept quiet enough that he didn’t feel the need to continue with his rather violent threats.
The four boys watched as the oak log smelted and the gray arrow in the furnace display gradually filled with the white progress bar. Then—
“Boom! See? That’s charcoal.” Pony threw out one of his arms in another unreadable (but very enthusiastic) gesture. “Now will you shut up about art supplies when you’re talking to the person here that knows the most about art supplies?”
Two-Bit stared at the screen for a second. If you looked at him close enough, you could see the way the gears in his head were turning. He was racking his brain for any solution to the problem of losing to a snarky 14 year old—but Ponyboy Curtis had beaten him fair and square. So instead of fighting back, he looked up, flipped Pony the bird, and waltzed out the front door. He didn’t even give Ponyboy the satisfaction of winning their stupid argument.
“I’m telling Darry about this when he gets home,” Pony muttered darkly.
Soda rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he’ll love to hear all about it.”